


Cuss Me Out Once, Shame on You

by mandaree1



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adult Ducks, Cussing Out the Ears, Lena/Webby is background stuff, Like maybe two chapters, Real talk Huey and Dewey don't pop up much, References to Depression, They're off AdventuringTM, Tired Parents Louie and Webby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-23 08:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: Louie's the triplet who stayed. Huey and Dewey might be off adventuring or getting kidnapped by pirates or whatever, but he's quite happy as an accountant working under Ma Beagle. But with Dewey's ex leaving an egg on his doorstep, Webby crashing at his apartment, and Lena acting stranger than ever, he might just be in for an adventure all his own.





	1. Sundays Suck

At twenty five, Louie stood as tall as Gladstone, though he had a knack of slumping without meaning to. Puberty had gifted him with the same feathery sideburns of his Great Uncle, though it was less of a gift and more of a punch to the face. They were slightly longer, mostly due to his bad habit of pulling on them in stressful situations, and much more thin and ragged because of it. He also had Scrooge's patented scowl, which was definitely more of a gift than the sideburns.

Louie closed his bathroom mirror, tipping his head back to swallow his meds. Down the hatch. That done, he turned back to his phone with the same simpering tone he used on basically anyone who didn't know him. "I'll be there in half an hour, Miss Ma, don't you worry. But I  _am_  going to have to charge you overtime."

Ma Beagle's voice was even gruffer over the phone. "Fuck's sake, Lou-Lou. Just get yer butt to the junkyard already."

"Yes, ma'am."

Louie stuck his toothbrush into his beak as he wandered down the hall, opening the door to Webby's room. Technically, it was the guest bedroom, but the woman had been using it the past two months, so it was basically her's. Blankets were flung about the mattress, leaving Webby half covered and half uncovered. She was sprawled on her back and snoring louder than a freight train.

Louie kicked the edge of the bed. "Webs. Webby? Webbigail?" Nothing. He sighed and popped the brush out of his bill. "It is I, your secret twin sibling, here to murder you and take your place."

"I always knew this day would come," Webby quipped as she sleepily sat up. She was shorter than Louie, with the same broad-shouldered build of her grandmother. Her sense of style hadn't changed much over the years, save for the pearl necklace she wore almost constantly, a centaur horn dangling from one of its many strings. She opened one eye to examine him. "What're you doing up? It's Sunday."

"Surprise work."

Webby blinked once, then reached up to wipe the crust out of her eyes. "Did Bigtime steal the wrong bank van again?"

"Actually," said Louie mildly. "He forgot the brake. Fudger went right into the ocean."

"You're  _kidding_  me."

"That's what I said when Ma told me."

On the weekends, Louie preferred his usual hoodie. Some days, when he felt particularly cold, he would even scrounge up some sweatpants. But work was a different beast entirely for the duck, and he hated the thought of its evils seeping into his favorite outfit. Instead, he wore a thin white work shirt, slightly wrinkled, and a green clip-on tie. He tugged on one of the sleeves while he waited for his poptarts to toast, then said goodbye with a hug and kiss, all smiles.

It wasn't easy for Louie to pretend to be so chipper, especially when he wasn't even used to being awake that early, and as soon as he was out of Webby's range he went right back to slumping, shuffling into the elevator with no real joy. "Fuuuuccckkkk, I hate work. I hate life and I hate Sundays and I hate fucking  _worrrrkkkkkk_."

"Same," a fellow apartment tenant said, busy on his phone. "Which floor?"

* * *

Louie was an accountant. That's the long and short of it all. He just happened to be the personal accountant of Ma Beagle.

It's an easy job. Show up, count the cash, mingle with Ma's multitude of sons, then head home. It'd gotten him a nice apartment and a menagerie of connections throughout Duckburg and beyond. Being a relative of the deceased Scrooge McDuck made that bonus even sweeter, his bloodline earning him a kind of respect just being an accountant couldn't.

But it had an equal amount of downsides. The illegal nature of his employers meant he had to be pretty persistent to get the money he felt he deserved, checking and double-checking to make sure he hadn't been scammed. It was a pesky annoyance, especially when his boss is in jail on payday.

There's also his coworker, a rather infamous Lena De Spell.

Lena was more than a coworker, of course. She was a long-time friend, and Webby's girlfriend. She had potions out the ears, from subduing your enemies with slinky snakes to curing colds. She was almost twice his height, thin as a stick, and she still had her old troublesome ways that typically had Louie following her lead, if only for a bit of fun.

But that didn't change the fact that she was the reason Webby was sleeping in his apartment right now, so he made sure to spit a "Good morning, fucker." her way as he approached the junkyard, meeting her at the front gate.

"Morning to you too, jackass," she responded, but held the door open for him nonetheless.

Ironically, Ma Beagle had perhaps aged the best out of everyone Louie knew. Hardly a single hair on her pelt had gotten gray since Scrooge's passing- if anything, living past her rival had rejuvenated her, putting a skip in her step. Granted, that step wasn't very visible now, her cane pressed against Bigtime's neck, hand curled in the fabric of his Beagle Boy shirt, but Louie would almost bet money on it any other day.

"Lou-Lou!" Ma dropped the boy like hot coal, leaning on said cane. "So good of you to come."

"I'm here too," Lena added.

"I hate yer guts, De Spell," the dog told her, not for the first time. "Lou-Lou, you were always my favorite son."

Louie's beak wrinkled. "I'm not your kid."

She poked him in the chest. "So you'll do yer Ma proud and fix this, won'tcha?"

"Again. Not your son."

"Do it or you're fired."

"Love you too, Miss Ma." He sent her finger guns, grabbing Lena's wrist. "The usual spot?"

"Yup. Gimme a minute and I'll join ya'." She spared the cowering Bigtime a nasty look. "I'd like to have a word with my son first."

"Okay, just for clarification," Louie said. "Are you talking about me or about Bigtime?"

Ma heaved a great sigh, shaking her head. "Get in the house, Lou-Lou."

* * *

"I'm just sayin', man," Lena defended, chugging half her glass of apple juice in one go. "We've had a rough year. Peru was a bust, Ma got caught on her birthday, and now this. We're only halfway through! We gotta do somethin'  _big_."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," he said, unconvinced, as he poured himself a glass. "And who here, pray tell, do you think has the ability to pull something like that off?"

She barked out a laugh. "You'd be surprised what a person can do with the right magic."

"Maybe, but your magic is shit."

Lena frowned. The glow in her eyes faded. "Are you doubting me?"

Louie blinked at her, surprised. She'd never been sensitive about her lack of skill before now. He opened his mouth, intending to ask if she was okay, then closed his teeth around the sentiment, remembering that he was still mad at her.

Suddenly, she shook herself. "Whatever. Nevermind. We all know damn well the boys'll do anything for Ma. She's just gotta point and they'll go."

" _Going_  isn't the same as  _getting_."

"You have a better idea,  _Louis_?"

Louie held up his hands. "I completely agree with the  _concept_ , but my whole job is to look out for the financial well-being of Miss Ma and her family. If we can't be certain this'll go well, there's no point."

Lena bent at the waist, setting the glass down on the wood table. "So you'd rather survive off the scraps?" she demanded quietly. Louie bristled. "C'mon, Duck. Work with me here."

"You're in a mood," he accused, brow furrowing.

"I didn't sleep well," she admitted with a shrug. Her usual eye shadow covered the clue to this little fact rather well.

"Miss your bed-buddy, did we?"

"If you  _must_  know, I'm heading straight for a crash, and I always sleep like shit when I do." She smacked her lips, the words bitter. Lena was never one to discuss these sorts of things- unlike Louie, who was far more open about it. "Also, that's a super low blow, asshole."

"You  _were_  the one who kicked my dearest friend out."

"I didn't kick Webby out. The apartments in her name, for fuck's sake."

Louie rolled his eyes. "Right. Like you have anywhere you could go."

"I can kick it just fine on my own, thank you very much."

"You know that, and I know that, but we both  _also_  know that Webby's too nice to let you do that."

Lena's eyes narrowed. She stood up and reached over the table to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer with a grunt of exertion. Louie let her, mostly because he was too lazy to move. They had a deeply anime moment where they glared at each other, teeth slightly bared, waiting for something to give.

That 'something' was Ma Beagle, who kicked open the door to her trailer. "I am  _so_  ready to kick that boy to the curb," she grumbled. Ma caught sight of them and frowned even more severely. "Kids, are you wrasslin' in my home?"

"Yes."

"Pretty much."

"Well, don't. I just cleaned the place."

They exchanged a glance. Lena and Louie both slowly withdrew to their chairs, pouting. Lena poured and gulped down another glass of apple juice.

"Alrighty," Louie said awkwardly. "Back to work, then."

Lena, eyebrows raised, handed him the bottle.


	2. New Addition

Webby found Louie in the dark living room, carefully stacking and un-stacking blankets in a corner. "Uh-oh," she said, then lowered her voice. "Louie, are you okay?"

He didn't respond.

"You havin' an off day?"

A slight nod.

She went around the couch and crouched beside him, careful not to touch. He had a habit of being easily overstimulated at a time like this. "May I have your phone?"

Louie shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled it out, handing it over without a word.

Webby quietly thanked him and stood up, leaving him where he was. She set a reminder for him to eat on the counter and left him alone. When Louie had an off day, he didn't move much, and he also didn't like having a lot of talking. He just wanted to build nests.

* * *

There was a lot of positions open to a woman like Webby. She might lack experience in the day-to-day, but there's very few out there who aren't interested in hiring someone who can do most anything else, and do it with proficiency. (Not to mention she's an adopted great-grand-niece of the deceased Scrooge McDuck, and Louie, for all his exaggerations, wasn't _wrong_  when he said that got her some bonus points.)

It was probably for those reasons that it surprised people that she chose to work at the Duckburg Library, stacking and shelving. It was bland work, perhaps, but Webby had grown up in a library, and after spending five full years traveling with Lena, it was nice to take a short break.

Webby's hand went to her necklace, unbidden. While it was true that the centaur horn was her own, taken from the aptly-named and slain Dicktaur, the pearls were all from Lena. Each contained a little callback to a good time they'd had, a happy memory. One had her and Lena pointing out stars while cooking scorpions in the desert. Another was them patching wounds on a fire escape after a run-in with some unhappy gamblers.

Cliche, yes; it was also the sweetest gift Webby had ever received.

It's at said job and fiddling with said necklace that Louie's phone buzzes for the first of two times that day. Webby pulled up his text messages from a contact simply listed as You Know Who.

_Come and get it, or it's going to the orphanage. I'm gone._

"Goddamnit," Webby says, usually not one to cuss, as she scrambling to find her keys. "Fuck. Duck. Ducking fuck. Fucking duck in a ducking fuck."

"Shh," one of the library patrons said. Breaking character once again that day, Webby flipped them the bird, pun and insult  _very much_  intended.

* * *

The second buzz comes while she's in the car, sitting at a lazy red spotlight. It startles her out of a half-formed plan to break multiple traffic laws, teeth bared at the other drivers menacingly. The number is ID'd as Just Take It, You Moron, and Webby hits accept call.

The voice at the other end of the line is talking before she can even think of an appropriate greeting. "Hey, tiny pecker, sorry to call on your day off, but Ma is gonna fry our asses well-done if we don't get a plan together soon."

"Lena?"

"Aw, shi-oot," Lena awkwardly corrected herself, clearing her throat. "Webs, why do you have Louie's phone?"

"Because he's having an off day and he needs his quiet." Webby laid on the horn. "Move it, grandma!"

"You okay?"

"I'm on my way to the Duckburg Hospital. The egg finally dropped."

"Aw, shoot. You need anything?"

"I need you to talk to me. Tell me what you're wearing, and doing, and basically anything that'll keep my mind off hyperventilating."

Normally, Lena would reply with a dirty quip, but she's not so cruel as to confuse her mind at a time like this. "I'm in my usual. That old faded purple shirt with the dream catcher? Got my hair up. I'm painting, actually."

"Painting?"

"Thought the trim could use a little upkeep."

"That is the stupidest lie you've told me since you said your last name was Le Strange."

"I don't work well under pressure." Webby could imagine the wry smile on her beak. "Keep your eyes on the road, Anglibeth, and not on fact-checking me."

"Wait, gimme a sec-" Webby hits the speaker button and tosses the phone into the passenger's seat- "There, now I can do both. What color paint is it?"

"Hmm, white."

"Boo. Boring."

"Says the librarian."

"Hey, somebody's gotta have a decent and paying job when you and Louie get cuffed by the po-po."

"Such high hopes for us, dear."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Webby's still hurt with Lena, but she can't deny that the woman knows how to make her laugh and feel a bit more at ease. Lena walks her through what little she knows of egg-rearing while she paints sigils on the walls of their apartment, frowning nervously at her work and hoping it'll be enough.

The Duckburg Hospital required proof of incubator before they released the egg to her, and the only reason they were willing was because she was listed as a godparent, and it was apparent that it had been abandoned. Webby bought one right then and there, just so they didn't have any right to complain, then loaded everything up proper in the van.

"Well, it could be worse," Webby said conversationally, still on the phone. "It could be triplets."

"Don't triplets hatch out of a single egg?"

"Duck, I hope not. I'm pretty sure twins do." There was a pregnant- ha ha- pause. "Lena?"

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you ask for space?"

"Is now really a good time for that, Webs?"

She shrugged. "This is the first time I've gotten any one-on-one time with you since I left, so."

Lena heaved a great big sigh. "Webby, I'm not just painting."

"I figured."

"Things aren't good on my end right now. I'm just trying to keep you safe."

Webby laughed. "Lena, I can snap your neck like a toothpick. You can't keep me safe if you don't endanger me in the first place."

"Yeah, well... let's just say it's not me I'm worried about. Not exactly." Lena shifted the phone to her other ear. "Let's _also_  just say it's for the best of everyone if I lay low until Bluey gets back and takes his offspring off your hands."

Surprised by the sincerity in her tone, Webby leaned back in her seat, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Lena, are you okay?"

"Fuckin' dandy. Hey, when Louie is up and able, tell 'em to give me a call, alright?"

"Alright."

"Thanks."

She hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Confused dun dun dun's in the distance-
> 
> I based Louie's off day off my own. Granted, I don't build nests, but I prefer to stay by myself, and talking sucks. I can't focus very well, and I enjoy hanging out in bed, where I can sprawl out all nice and warm. That type of thing.
> 
> -Mandaree1


	3. Voicemail

"Hey, it's ya' boy, Dewey. Leave your name and number and I'll call you back when I can! Uh, bye."

"Dewford  _fucking_  Duck," Louie greeted the automated voicemail as he leaned back in his desk chair. The past few days had not been very kind to the duck; his feathers were askew, his clothes rumpled, and the typical bags under his eyes were much darker than usual. He ran his fingers through his fringes as he chuckled. "So, Dewey. I'd like to start this by pointing out that this is the  _fifth_  voicemail I've sent you since you went off to fight pirates or whatever a couple months back. I'm not all that worried, believe it or not- you've been gone longer than this before. You've got the McDuck luck. Always have, always will."

He broke off to take a long, long, unnecessarily long swig of coffee out of a McDonald's cup, plopping it down with a growl. "You listen here you little shit. Not only did I stay behind so you and Huey could go off gallivanting into the un-fucking-known, I'm taking care of your egg. Not half an egg, not an Easter egg, your  _literal child_  egg. Y'know what that is, Dewford? That's fucking work. Y'know what I  _hate_? Fucking work!"

"Louie!" Webby called from down the hall. "Why are you cussing out Dewey?"

"I'm calling his voicemail to give him an update," he replied, then said in a lower tone. "You ungrateful little dickhead of a brother. This is the second most fucked up thing you've left for me to carry by myself. I better get some major ass-kissing when you get home." Louie went to hit end call, then thought better of it. "Oh, and one last thing. If you even think of naming this egg Dewey Jr., I _will_  pluck you one feather at a time and leave you to fry. Don't think I won't. I've got Beagle Boy connections. Love you. Bye."

* * *

Louie made his world-famous cereal for breakfast, handing Webby a bowl before flopping onto the couch himself. Louie had worked late that day before, and Ma had graciously given him some reprieve time- which was most likely a nicer way to say that she was sick of his nagging. Webby had taken the week off due to family emergency, hoping to watch over the newest addition and make sure that it had everything it needed before heading back to the grind.

"I've realized something," Webby said around a spoonful of cheerios. "We both suck at being parents."

"This just occurred to you  _now_?"

"Well, no, but I finally slept enough last night to get the proper brain function to say it." She gently punched his shoulder. "I propose we never have little ones of our own."

"Oh, duck, no. I can't even imagine the chaos that would come of that. " Louie chuckled a little. "Not to mention we're not dating."

"This is true, but I also know dang well that you'd marry me for the tax benefits."

"Why am I being called out this early in the morning?"

"It's noon."

"Must I repeat myself, Webbigail?"

They were saved from devolving further by a solid knock on the door. Louie sighed and set his cereal on the counter. Then, noticing the pill he set out on the counter every morning, he took a messy sip of milk from the bowl (almost leaving yet another stain on his hoodie) and swallowed his meds, feeling embarrassed about almost having forgotten.

Louie opened the door without glancing through the peephole, half expecting it to be some random villain from Scrooge's past, but found himself in a warm embrace instead. "Green bean! How's tricks? And has anyone told you that you look more like Donald by the day?"

"Everybody has, Uncle Gladstone," he wheezed, letting himself lean on the gander. "Which is highly ironic, considering I've got Uncle Scrooge's face fungus."

Gladstone pulled back, holding him by the shoulders. "Hmmm... I think it's the slump."

A kitchen knife embedded itself in the wall right by Gladstone's face, prompting a yelp from him. Webby glared at them both. "I swear to duck, if you're here to drag his sorry butt off to the casino, I'mma stop you right here and now," she said. "I'm having a nice breakfast debate over some infamous Louie Duck cereal, and I'm kind of enjoying myself."

Gladstone bent slightly to murmur in Louie's ear. "I thought she moved in with that De Spell girl?"

"Louie, give me back my knife."

He quickly held his hands up. "Just asking, just asking! Anyway, I came to see the newest member of the family, is all. Can I come in, or will I be risking my life?"

"Don't tempt me," Webby growled, shoveling another spoonful in. Her face grew even more pinched. "Damn it all, it went soggy."

Gladstone reached out to take her bowl. "Would an offer for you, green bean, and my newest kin to come stay at my big house make up for it?"

Something shrewd twinkled in Louie's eyes as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "It'd certainly be a start, Uncle. But why the sudden offer?"

"Well, you know me and timing," he laughed. "Besides. I figure, with Scrooge and Donald... well, with them being gone and all- that you'd need someone to rely on right now." Gladstone smiled, showcasing teeth that were too bright to be natural. "That may as well be me, amiright?"

Webby raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Gander, no offense, but I wouldn't trust you with a pet  _rock_ , let alone a living egg."

"I'll have you know that I helped your Uncle Donald hatch your brothers, little miss." He ruffled Louie's top feathers. "I used to watch all sorts of dramas in my bathrobe with 'em."

"My point still stands."

"And  _my_  point is that you have the _vulnerable descendant of Scrooge McDuck_ , one of the most problematic ducks I ever had the pleasure of knowing, and are keeping it in an _extremely_  public apartment complex." Gladstone's bushy eyebrows almost touched with his quiet ferocity. It was reminiscent of a storm out on the sea- powerful, not there quite yet, but certainly on its way. "Trust me, you'll be doing me a favor."

"He's got money and chocolate," Louie added hopefully. "That's everything we'll ever need right there."

Webby looked at him, then the grossly soggy cereal contemplatively. "You have a point."

"Does this mean I'm allowed to take Louie out for some fun?"

"Don't push your luck, Gander."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy, Gladstone's here! Man, have I looked forward to writing Louie ranting at Dewey's voicemail. =)
> 
> -Mandaree1


	4. Family Call

"Fuck," Louie said suddenly, startling Webby awake. "I forgot my meds."

Webby grunted sourly and sat up slightly. She and the young man had stumbled into a single bed, too tired to consider doing otherwise, and her legs had fallen over his midsection. "Louie, you know I respect the severity of your depression and the effect it has on your life, but can it wait 'till morning?"

"Oh, fuck, yes." He held his hands up. "The meds won't leave my system for a couple of days. I just thought I'd say it out loud because I'm such a forgetful bastard and will need you to remind me."

She reached up to lightly bap him on the beak. "Then don't wake me up in the middle of night again, you little crud. I thought we had a serious situation on our hands."

"Oh, we do."

"We do?"

"I need to pee, and my legs fell asleep."

" _Llewellyn_."

"Hey, hey! We both know that I purposefully spread misinformation on my name so people assume it's Louis. What if someone overheard you?"

Webby shoved him off the bed, like you do. Louie stuck his tongue out at her.

* * *

Gladstone was still in his usual robe and slippers when he went to answer the door. Somehow, in spite of this, he managed to look well-dressed when he opened it to find the original classics on his doorstep, each holding their usual green hats to their chests in a show of politeness. "Whoo boy. What did I do to piss off Ma Beagle this time?"

"Nothin'," Bigtime grunted, looking very awkward about the whole ordeal. "We, uh, we heard Lou-Lou was stayin' here. Is that true?"

"It is."

"Can we come in?"

Gladstone raised a single thick eyebrow. "What for?"

Bouncer cleared his throat. "We wanna see the puppy."

"The puppy?" he echoed bemusedly. "You mean the egg?"

"Yeah. The puppy."

Gladstone shrugged and leaned on the door frame. "Hey, Louie! Your gangster friends are here!"

Louie came stumbling out of their shared bedroom in one of Gladstone's many robes. His decent nights' sleep had done a wonder on his bags but left him sluggish as he approached. "Heeeeey guys. Did Ma finally kick the bucket?"

"Who said you could use one of my robes?" Gladstone asked.

"Would you rather I have answered the door naked?"

"I mean, you make it sound like I  _haven't_  done that."

Bigtime reached out to give Louie an awkward side-hug. "Happy fatherhood, Lou-Lou."

"Whoa, whoa!" Louie scrambled backwards, hands up. "I'm not the dad. I'm not even the sugar daddy. I'm just taking care of the munchkin until my idiot brother gets home."

"Ain't he dead?" Bouncer mused, eyebrows raising. Burger made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat, complete with a shrug.

"Anywho," Bigtime growled. "We was hopin' to get a look at the puppy. Also, we kinda-sorta have a plan for the next big heist."

"No, we don't," Burger disagreed. " _You_  have a plan, which Ma specifically said you weren't supposed to do."

"I hate to interrupt small-time criminals and their illegal work, but would you mind coming in?" Gladstone shepherded them inside with a grimace. "The neighbors are gonna see."

"You didn't seem to mind that concept when it came to nudity."

"Hush."

Louie slipped out from under his Uncle's arms. "Look, guys. I forgot something at the apartment. Why don't you head on back, and I'll see you when I'm finished?"

"Is the Vanderquack girl back there?" Burger audibly swallowed. "She scares me."

"She is and she should." The duck saluted, the door already clicking shut behind him. "Good luck on not getting eviscerated!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh. Took me long enough, huh?
> 
> Ruh-roh, Raggy. The kids be splitting up.
> 
> -Mandaree1


	5. Gardening 101

"Lena?"

Lena froze, a couch cushion in her hands, and perked up. "Oh. Hey. You're, uh. You're home."

Louie flicked on the lights, though it was only around noon, and thought better of shutting the front door behind him. He was still in his work shirt and tie, rumpled beyond belief from sleep and a general lack of tact. "Why're you in my apartment? Did- did you break in?"

The woman carefully put the cushion back, taking that time to get herself together. When she straightened, it was with her usual wry smile and half-lidded eyes. "Oh, y'know. Just wanted to make sure you guys didn't get kidnapped or murdered or whatever."

"Oh." He walked inside, scratching at an itchy spot on the back of his head. "Nah. We just moved somewhere more comfortable for the egg."

"Did you forget something?"

"Yeah, my meds. Have you seen them?"

"Kitchen, third shelf from the left."

Louie raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, you creepy fuck."

Lena followed him into the kitchen, despite Louie very loudly complaining that _he didn't need her help_ , thank you very much. Something about the way she moved made Louie uneasy. It wasn't anything in particular- the stillness of her arms, which usually swung around as she walked- it just felt off. "Hey, Lena?" he said finally. "Didn't you need to pick your  _own_  meds up?"

"Do I?" she replied, unconcerned. "I'll drop by the pharmacy on my way home." Lena spotted a small cactus on the windowsill above the sink and retrieved it. "Didn't take you as the type to have a green thumb, Duck."

"Oh, yeah. Jim." Louie leaned his front arms on the counter. "Did I ever tell you why I bought that thing?"

"I don't think so."

He snorted. "Oh, fuck. It was back when I was helping take care of Scrooge. He was getting slower by the day- it was only a matter of days at that point. Beakley had already kicked the bucket, and he ordered Duckworth to go ahead and wait for him." Louie glanced at her from under his eyelashes. "I told you I was the only one there when he died, right?"

Lena didn't answer.

"Well, he suddenly decided he wanted to go sit outside, and he was pretty damn insistent about it. I got some birdseed and helped him onto one of the stone benches, and we fed his expensive ass peacocks for a bit. It was the most mundane I'd ever seen him." He paused, frowning, then shook himself. "He told me that he had one of the best gardens in Duckburg."

"Whoop de frickin doo," she scoffed, gently testing one of the spines on Jim. "Richest duck in Duckburg can afford the best gardens- who knew?"

"That's about what I said, actually. And he told me that he'd had the garden since he built the mansion, but it was only once Uncle Donald and Mom left that he actually bothered to put any effort into it. He was lonely and bored as all fuck, and it was right outside his door. It was because of all his hard work that it got all fancy-schamncy in the first place," Louie explained. "Do you know what he told me next?"

"I imagine you're going to tell me."

The smaller duck nodded. "He told me to never make a garden like his. That it was all just a distraction to avoid thinking of his empty ass house, and that he never wanted me to get to that point. Made me promise, too." Louie grabbed Jim's pot and pulled him closer. "And, being the insolent little shit that I am, I bought this that very night."

Lena chuckled a little. "Yeah, that sounds like you." She nudged his shoulder. "You're a decent dude, Duck, all things considered."

"Right, right," Louie said. "Who are you and what did you do with Lena De Spell?"

"Hey, I can give out compliments when I have to."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. "I'm not kidding." His brow was furrowed, eyes flashing. "Who are you?"

For a moment, she gawked at him. But it didn't last long. She shut her eyes and breathed out her nose. "Is my impression that off?"

"Lena never tells me jack shit about her meds," Louie answered, letting go. He calmly opened the cabinet to retrieve his pill bottle. "I don't even know what kind she takes."

"Curses, foiled by my innate urge to sound agreeably polite about medication intake." She snapped her fingers. "I suppose the real question here is; who do you  _think_  I am?"

He shoved the bottle into his shirt pocket and buttoned it so it wouldn't fall out. "Well, let's see. Lena was super sensitive about her magic, was painting something secret when Webby called her, and was worried about Webby getting hurt... so I'mma have to go with Magica?"

"Ding ding ding!" she cheered, right before pulling a chef's knife out of the knife set, testing the blade on her fingers. "By the way, you should never let someone you think could be a threat into your kitchen. It's usually where the murder things are."

"True. But it's also the place where we keep the sharp pokey plants," said Louie, who then chucked Jim straight into Magica's face. She grabbed it by the pot mid-air in a very cool but also cliche move, tossing it into the sink. Louie took off in a full-sprint, cutting through the hallway and back into the living room, where the door sat, still open.

A strong arm grabbed his shoulder, slamming him into the wall. The knife was pressed closely to Louie's throat. Lena's eyes, which had become a sort of murky red-ish brown, narrowed as she took him in. "Nice try."

"What do you want?"

"What do you  _think_  I want?" she snapped. "Scrooge's dime. Give it to me."

Louie groaned and let his head thud against the wall. "Dude, I don't know where it is. Scrooge hid all his shit before he kicked the bucket."

The knife pressed harder, close to breaking skin. "I don't believe you. If there's one thing Scrooge loved as much as his money, it was his family. He wouldn't leave you all penniless."

"You  _do_  know that we're talking about  _Scrooge McDuck_ , right?" he wheezed. "He wants us to find it; why do you think my idiot brothers are gone all the time?"

"I'm running out of patience," Magica warned. "Give me the dime, or I'll make you sorry."

"Why would I know where it is? I'm an accountant."

"You're an adventurer," she corrected. "You're giving me smack while I threaten to slice your throat. That's not indicative of a normal man."

"I live with Webby Vanderquack," Louie reminded her calmly. "You'd be shocked how many times a knife gets pressed against my neck a week."

The possessed figure of Lena eyed him a moment longer, then withdrew the blade, keeping him pressed against the wall. "Fine. Maybe I can't get info out of you. But I'll bet even the hardest duck will talk to save the life of a helpless egg."

"You're  _kidding_."

"I don't kid, boy. You think I like possessing my niece? She's a permanently tired telephone pole. I _need_  that dime to regain my physical form." Magica smiled, sickeningly sweet. "Isn't it a win-win? You get your little friend's lover back, and I can finally leave the shadows."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you belong there? I mean, you  _did_  just threaten to hurt a baby."

Her eyes went completely red. "Would you like to find out?"

" _Ahem._  Is, uh... is everything okay in here?"

They broke apart almost instantly. The door to the apartment stood as wide open as ever, and a very confused and concerned-looking dog was standing in the doorway, phone in his hands. "Do I, uh, need to call the police?"

Magica and Louie made eye contact, and in that second they both agreed this wasn't nearly an important enough matter for the police to get involved, seeing how both of them (well, one of them, and the other possessed the body of) worked under Ma Beagle, and weren't exactly on friendly terms with the po-po.

"Oh, dear," Magica simpered, setting the knife on the nearest table. She strutted over to meet the man at the door. "I'm so sorry, doll. I could've sworn we closed and locked that door." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "We're of very odd tastes, you see. It's all a fun little act."

Louie felt his face catch on fire at the implication, and saw the man's twist into a look of disgust. "Okay. Gross," he growled. "I mean, you do you, but keep the door closed next time, okay?"

"Understood." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Thank you for being so understanding, my good man."

Thinking quickly, Louie slung an arm around Magica's shoulders, ignoring the fact he had to stand slightly on tip-toe to do it. "Oh,  _honey_ , I forgot we're out of rubbers," he said. He steeled his resolve and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Be right back."

Magica scowled at him, but recognized she'd been bested. "Don't be out for too long,  _dear_. Wouldn't want the ropes to grow cold."

Louie slammed the door shut in her face, then turned to the increasingly displeased stranger. "How much do I have to pay you to not file a complaint?" he asked wearily.

"Hundred bucks," he answered. "That's about how much my therapy bill will cost."

He shucked the cash out without complaint. There was too much adrenaline in his veins to feel the knock to his bank account, but it still hurt to hand out such high dollar to someone else. "I'm so sorry, man. The lock must be broke."

"Then fix it," he grunted, pocketing the money. "And if this happens again, I  _will_  call the police. Don't care if it's real or fake."

"Yes, sir. Won't happen again, sir."

* * *

Louie ran about ten blocks. Actually, it was more accurate to say he ran five, stopped, ran three, stopped, and then ran the last two. By the time he hailed and got into a taxi, he was panting and sweating.

He slumped into the back seat and took a bit to catch his breath. Louie didn't know whether to be grateful for the save or not, the damage of which that had been done to his reputation was irreparable. He pulled out his phone and called Webby.

She hit answer. In the background there was a loud crash- presumably from something one of the Beagles had dropped. "Louie, I'm  _this_  close to divorcing you and taking the egg for myself."

"So, like, don't be mad at me, but I kind of kissed your possessed girlfriend on the cheek after a concerned neighbor found her threatening me with a knife so he wouldn't call the cops and now he thinks we were doing some weird kind of roleplay so I payed him to make up for ruining his life and now I'm on my way home."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Webby?" Nothing. "Webby, are you there?"

"Louie, that is easily the most fucked up sentence I've ever heard in my life," she said slowly. "The kiss is the  _least_  disconcerting part of it. Can you possibly reconstruct this entire scenario in such a way that actually makes sense?"

The cab driver was eyeing him pretty bad at this point, and the worried shakes were setting in, so Louie lowered his voice. "Can it wait 'til I get back? I'm kind of sinking into panic attack central, and I  _really_  hate crying on the phone."

Webby's voice softened a little. "Yeah, okay. You just get home."

"Thanks." They exchanged a quick goodbye before hanging up. Louie slumped further into his seat, vibrating head to toe, and tried to ignore the feeling of his heart beating out of his chest.

"Ya'll right back there?" the cab driver asked awkwardly.

" _No_ ," he moaned, flopping an arm over his face. "I'm an Uncle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to write this chapter for ages lol. It's kind of an important one; some background, some explanation, a EEnE reference, etc.
> 
> -Mandaree1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while now, and it's gone under A LOT of change as time has gone on, but the running theme hasn't changed- Louie and Webby getting stuck with an egg. Should be fun!


End file.
